Red star, heart-shaped
Hangs from my ceiling and catches the light
Color of blood, essence of passion
A treasure to me and a symbol of love
Is dull to the touch, no trace of warmth
Tears at the surface and infects within
If was eaten, would make me ill
But shimmers and evokes hunger still
Facets sparkle, magic was there
Disappointment hangs now and blackens the night
Faux star, sky my ceiling
Glow bright once more and restore the firmament.
(Previously published in Highland Park
Poetry Winter Muses' Gallery, 2019)
I don't dread five months of winter.
I wake to a cardinal's whistle,
morning moon sliding behind clouds,
and snow on cherry branches.
I bend my aging back to pick up the stiff newspaper.
While I brew coffee in my enamel percolator,
Nat King Cole croons "Unforgettable"
from the turntable.
Throughout the day, crows and juncos
flit from oak to beech, icicles dazzle
from the eave. Snowdrifts melt, dark green
soaking through, creating calligraphy.
I think of spring, transforming the poplar stump
into a fairy garden with gnomes, and
painting the weathered red birdhouse
for the finches' and sparrows' return.
Interrupting my daydreams —
rumbles and lightning captivate.
I don't dread artful winter.
At dusk, there is calm, neighbors' shadows
on the sidewalk, and dimly-lit houses.
Waves of wind warm me at night, propelling
the allegro movement of the terrace chime.
My aging hound with yellow teeth yawns wide.
I sit in my velvet armchair, lights out,
gazing at a slice of moon.
I don't dread easy winter.
(Previously published in East on Central: A Journal of Arts
and Letters from Highland Park, Illinois, 2022-2023
I grew up listening to Frankie Beverly & Maze
Because our father use to blast it on Sundays,
He dropped gems like 'Joy & Pain', 'Before I Let Go',
'Golden Time of Day' and 'Feel That You're Feeling'.
Frankie's vocals were always on point and the sentiment stayed
In my youthful ears before it went through the ceiling!
Then landed in my heart.
I recall the Frankie Beverly & Maze 'Live in New Orleans' album cover
On our coffee table and my parents preparing to get dressed
To attend their concert so I would just hover.
I love the lyrics to 'Joy & Pain' 'Where there's a flower
There's the sun and the rain, oh but it's wonderful
There both one in the same,' because they
sincerely resonate within my being.
I have placed those words in my autobiography and
website because they are so freeing.
The legend goes that Howard Beverly named himself 'Frankie'
in homage to Frankie Lymon who was his idol.
Frankie Beverly immortalized one of his mentors Marvin Gaye
In song Frankie was generous with a title.
Further strengthening our connection to him even more
Because Frankie Beverly was singing about love and not war.
Reminding us that 'We Are One' through anthems and
Beautiful ballads such as 'I Can't Get Over You'.
Songs like 'Southern Girl' brought a warm smile to my face
Because I knew the exact sentiment that Frankie was giving grace.
A Frankie Beverly & Maze concert was like an experience
That you will never forget.
In my lifetime I got a chance to attend
Their concerts 3 times and I have no regrets.
I was bedazzled by songs like 'I Can Tell By The Look In
Your Eyes', 'When I'm Alone', 'Back In Stride' and 'Look at California'
Because the words and melody flow through the ear drums and land
in the cerebral cortex somewhere behind the cornea.
Frankie Beverly was perennially trying to tell us that
better days are coming,
Either through his immaculate vocals or his informative and
seductive humming.
Frankie Beverly exited our earthly stage this year in September
But his legacy lives on and he will be someone that we will always remember.
Standing straight in a row are five white birch trees,
roots in alignment, branches holding leaves firm,
thick and green. A nearby pine trims needles
for a smoother look, and the climbing shiny-leaf ivy
winds only in places that are gentle to bark.
Small bushes are trimmed by quiet rodents,
who provide this service on special occasions.
Clouds gently move aside to let the golden rays
shine forth on this day
when the Lord comes to visit...
silently on the breeze.
Apples of the
delicious fruits
exude from the
orchard supply tree of
splendor scenery
in their red beauty shine
paint resplendent blooming
of luscious images portray
hard and soft
exquisite display touch
In the stand of canvas
round-shaped
figure curve
bringing the
aroma of the
scent with the
thirst quest for feed
relish with joy
of giving the
share of pleasure
sweet and sour
succulent taste
The headstone, rainy gray and overgrown
with surly thistle, sheds a teary stream
on blackened soil. The wintry pines bemoan
my timid curiosity; they scheme
and wheedle, wooing me, alarming me
with flirty shadows on the blurry stone.
It bears my name! With spurts of blasphemy
I fall upon my knees, and I'm alone,
removing old debris in frantic sweeps...
I see October Thirty-One — no year,
the stone is chipped. I rummage through the heaps
of grass; 'tis folly, though, to persevere.
~
And now, on each October Thirty-One,
I wait in terror till the day is done.
The bee always knows her purpose:
Bringing nectar to the hive.
If only life were that easy.
A sweet welcome mat,
an open door waiting.
I've looked for home,
a structure to come back to;
buzzing family members
happy on my return.
I want that place of refuge,
to be as secure as the bee feels
when she empties her pollen basket.
How perfect to be part of a hive,
a family I can leave my scent with
and know where I'll be going home.
You, who rise sky-high within me
on ancient wings, who press
through my fingertips the reach
of feathered imperatives,
the art of leaving, of returning,
where will you take me now?
Caught in the catapult of your insistence,
I soared from my first tight nest
into a sky of ombré grays,
a path star-carved on endless air,
paved with wind toward warm unknowns.
You carried me to the farthest curl
of the flyway's unwound ribbon,
then again unfurled homeward wings,
riding an echo back to build a nest,
become a mother, watch others fly away.
Every scripted lap of this
coming/going life trumpets your voice,
the wonder of distances
long and loud with our stories.
You, who rise within,
where will you take me now?
(From Aligned With the Sky)
In seven minutes you can
talk with a friend, listen to music,
eat pancakes, do the dishes—
a mere seven minutes,
passing so quickly, inconsequential,
until a stranger explains to you
how they did all they could do
but because your beautiful daughter
was under the water for
seven minutes. ...
You couldn't have known,
he says. There's nothing
you could have done, he says.
That inconsequential number
is all it takes to lose someone you love
in the room right next to you,
on a day
that should have been ordinary,
leaving you to a life forever changed
into increments of seven minutes.
[From Sherri (with an i)]
Clear day
after three cloudy ones,
we all run to Table Mountain
in droves
by taxi, foot and bus
to take the wondrous
rotating cable car
up to the top
to view the city, harbor
and surrounding mountains
in incredible ways.
Crisp, icy in places
and thrilling,
the top is generally level (like a table)
but full of craggy rocks
and walking paths
with outlooks for poses and photo snaps,
the sunlight shining on all faces,
God giving each and every one
there a special moment to commune
with nature and feast on the beauty
of a high gorgeous place
that's remote and inaccessible
on so many days, but today
it glows and stuns and the
world is soft, whole and
made of good hopeful things.
Exude beauty
Build endurance
Return to starkness
Prepare for deep rest
Rely on inner strength
Shed what is unneeded
Survive the next season
Respect time's incessancy
October sets the trees aflame—
orange and scarlet blaze across the ridge,
burgundy smolders in the undergrowth,
bronze and ochre flash along the river's edge
October draws the gaze skyward—
to tattered vees of geese retreating south,
to shifting smudges of starling flocks,
to a burnished harvest moon
October charms the senses—
with honeyed light and spicy wood smoke,
leans in close, whispers, "Drink me in..."
and with frosty sigh adds "...I'll soon be gone."
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